


Thursdays with Greg, or John's Pregnancy As Told By Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade

by annabagnell



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, Mpreg, Omega John, Omega Verse, multiple pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-01
Updated: 2013-08-01
Packaged: 2017-12-22 01:26:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/907257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabagnell/pseuds/annabagnell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As John's pregnancy progresses, his Thursdays at the bar with Greg change location.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thursdays with Greg, or John's Pregnancy As Told By Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade

**Author's Note:**

> A little different from usual, folks. More fluffy than kinky.  
> This is a fic I unearthed from the bowels of my hard drive and decided to wrap up today. John's pregnancy, told from his friend Greg's perspective. Some people told me it's implied Johnstrade, which was not my intent. Read it whichever way you'd like, really.  
> Comments, reviews, and prompts are always welcome.  
> Thank you all for your dedicated readership. It means a lot to me.  
> -Anna

**_Thursday, 2 February 2012_ **

"So, next Thursday?" Greg asked as he set his empty mug down on the wooden counter. 

"No, sorry, Greg, Sherlock and I are…headed out of town for a few days." John looked down as he said it, his cheeks turning a slightly darker shade of pink. 

"Oh. Right. Sorry, mate. Shoulda remembered. Text me when you're back in London, okay?" John nodded and with an amicable clap to Greg's shoulder, shrugged on his jacket and left the pub. 

* * *

 

_Text Message: Sent Monday, 13 Feb 2012   8:12 p.m._

> _Thursday, 7 as usual? -JW_

_Text Message: Sent Monday, 13 Feb 2012   8:34 p.m._

> _See you then. -GL_

* * *

**_Thursday, 16 February 2012_ **

"First round's on me," Greg insisted as John sat himself on his regular stool at the corner of the bar. "Pint?" 

John shook his head. "Water's fine, thanks," he deferred, caught Greg's confused glance. "I…had a beer with Sherlock at lunch, and we've got an early start tomorrow. Don't want to chance it." 

"Right," Greg continued after a pause. "What's going on tomorrow?" 

John looked glad for the change in topic and latched on to the new strain of conversation easily. "He's picked up a new case in Devon, a string of robberies. Most recent was some poor chap who just lost his wife, Sherlock thinks she may have been involved…" 

* * *

 

_Text Message: Sent Wednesday, 22 Feb 2012   3:14 p.m._

> _Still in Devon. More case developments. Next week for sure. Sorry. -JW_

_Text Message: Sent Wednesday, 22 Feb 2012   5:43 p.m._

> _No problem. See you then, mate. -GL_

* * *

 

**_Thursday, 1 March 2012_ **

"Case finally solved, last evening. I'm still knackered," John admitted, sliding into his chair. "A lot of legwork, chasing four cousins all across creation."

"I can imagine," Greg agreed. "Do you want a-"

"No beer tonight," John cut him off. "I'll pass out on this stool if I do." He grinned wanly. 

Greg nodded in reluctant understanding. "So. Four cousins, serial robberies, what was the connection?" He took a deep draw from his own foaming mug. 

John sipped from his cola and launched into a recounting of their adventures in Devon over the past week and a half. Greg put the niggling sense of doubt to the back of his mind and concentrated on John's retelling of his and Sherlock's most recent expedition. 

* * *

 

**_Thursday, 15 March 2012_ **

"John not with you today?" Greg questioned as Sherlock squatted and pored over the dead body. 

The detective glanced around quickly, ascertaining that John indeed was not present, and nodded, picking up the deceased's wrist and peering under her watch strap. "He's not feeling well again today. Asked me to apologise, he won't be making it to the pub tonight." 

"Oh, sorry to hear that. Wish him well from me." Sherlock nodded distractedly and shuffled to reach for the dead woman's ankle. 

"See! Ligature marks just above the left ankle, indicative of a struggle - your killer is a man in his late thirties…" 

* * *

 

**_Thursday, 5 April 2012_ **

"Feeling better?" Greg clapped John on the shoulder as he sat down. 

"Much, thanks. Sorry about the last few weeks, I've not been at my best and didn't…want to pass along anything to you. All better now," John laughed, pulling his jacket off and slinging it on the back of the chair. "A night out. Just what the doctor ordered." 

Greg chuckled. "And did the doctor order a beer as well?"

"'Fraid not, Greg. I'll be abstaining tonight," John said, with a hint of regret. 

"Something you want to tell me, John? What are you, on a thirty-day plan to give up alcohol?" Greg guffawed, but his laughter came to a stop when John looked away. "John?"

"More like a nine-month plan, really," the doctor said under his breath. 

"What?" 

"Look, Sherlock and I were planning to wait a few more weeks to make this public, but…" John coughed, straightened up in his chair. "I'm pregnant." 

Greg's eyebrows shot up and he leaned back briefly in shock. "Well- congratulations, mate!" he managed, a smile breaking across his features as he took in the happy news. "That's great." 

"Yeah," John agreed, relaxing a little as Greg grinned widely across from him. "We wanted to wait until after the first trimester, but so long as you don't take out an ad in the Times, I don't see any reason why you shouldn't be among the first to know." 

"Thanks, John. How far along are you, then?" 

"Just 8 weeks, had my first checkup yesterday. Everything looks good," John exhaled, allowing a hand to stray to his stomach. "Sherlock's positively over the moon, I'm surprised he didn't out us at the crime scene a few weeks ago." 

Greg laughed. "Bit early for morning sickness, wasn't it?" 

"Yeah," John agreed readily. "But I think we're nearly past that stage now, thank Christ. That got old fast." 

"Well, congratulations again, John. I wish you and Sherlock the best." Greg reached across the table and took John's hand, squeezing it briefly.

John returned the quick embrace, smiling widely. "Thanks, Greg." 

* * *

 

_Text Message: Sent Tuesday, 10 April 2012   11:10 p.m._

> _Apparently this case is going to end up concluding somewhere in Scotland. Maybe Germany, Sherlock's not sure yet. Anyhow, I'll see you next week. -JW_

_Text Message: Sent Wednesday, 11 April 2012   8:32 a.m._

> _Blimey. Stay safe, John. See you next Thursday. -GL_

* * *

 

**_Thursday, 19 April 2012_ **

"You're starting to show," Greg remarked as John sat down next to him. 

"Yeah, I suppose I am," John mused, one hand drifting to cup the small belly he was sporting. "10 weeks today," he added. "I've got another appointment next Thursday." 

"How's Sherlock doing?" Greg asked, trying to imagine the lanky detective shopping for baby supplies or painting the walls of a nursery. 

"Not a whole lot to do quite yet. We won't know the sex for a few more weeks, and I've not even passed the first trimester mark yet." John took a sip of his water and reached for a pretzel. "Bloody hungry all the time, though, so I've got him doing grocery runs." 

"That's gotta be a change," Greg chortled.

"Sure is," John smiled. "He's never done the shopping in his life. Better he learns now, though, than until later when I can't go out to help anymore. Little one's growing fast," he murmured, fingers quivering over his shirt. 

Both men were silent for a few minutes, lost in thought. Eventually Greg broke out of his reverie, watching John's hand hover over the small bulge on his front. If he wasn't looking for it, he wouldn't have noticed it, he thought. "Funny. I never thought of you and Sherlock as the parenting type. No offense," he blurted, holding up a hand. 

"None taken," John returned, laughing. "I didn't, either. But we talked about it for a few months before my last heat, and…well, Sherlock…can you keep something a secret?" 

"Of course," Greg assured, leaning forward in confidence. 

"He actually…he actually cried when I agreed to discuss having a child with him. He's…a different person when we're alone, Greg. The whole 'sociopath' thing is an act, surely you've realised that." The DI nodded, and John continued. "He said he'd given up the idea of ever having a child when he moved to London, started taking cases. The idea of dragging a baby along to a crime scene is laughable, and he didn't think he'd ever meet anyone who'd agree to mate with him. Needless to say, he changed his mind when I moved in with him." John exhaled thoughtfully. "I'd thought the same thing, but for different reasons. Who'd want to mate with an old, washed-up army doctor?"

"You're two halves of one whole," Greg murmured. John looked up, locked eyes with his friend, and smiled. 

"That's the same thing Sherlock said." 

* * *

_Text Message: Sent Thursday, 26 April 2012   4:15 p.m._

> _Exciting news. See you tonight. -JW_

"You've had me on edge all afternoon, John. What've you got to tell me?" Greg helped the doctor off with his jacket and motioned for him to sit down. The man's water was already waiting, edges dripping with condensation, and John took a quick sip before turning to face his friend. 

"It's twins," he crowed, face lighting up with a brilliant smile. 

"Twins," Greg echoed, looking bemused. 

"Yep. Ultrasound confirmed, there's two in here." John looked down, rubbed his bulging stomach. 

"Blimey." 

* * *

 

_Text Message: Sent Monday, 30 April 2012   2:15 p.m._

> _Sherlock's insisting we go on a retreat for a few weeks. He says I need to relax. He's going to go stir crazy, but if he keeps nagging me like this I probably will, too. Sorry to leave you hanging. We'll be back at the end of June. -JW_

_Text Message: Sent Monday, 30 April 2012   2:49 p.m._

> _End of June? Christ, I can't imagine Sherlock going that long without a case. Best of luck, see you when you get back. -GL_

* * *

 

**_Thursday, 28 June 2012_ **

"Jesus, John, how do you walk around with that on?" Greg marveled at John's swollen stomach as he sat down heavily. 

"It's not easy," John huffed, tugging at the hem of his shirt. "Suppose I've really popped since you saw me last, eh?" 

"You look like you're ready to pop, that's for sure. How long to go yet?" The DI asked, taking a drag of his pint. 

"Only halfway done," John returned, sighing and patting his belly. "Nowhere near finished." 

"I can't imagine," Greg shook his head. "So what's new?" 

"I've never met a man who can manage to make me need a holiday after a holiday," John remarked, leaning forward and propping his chin on one fist. "Sherlock took three local cases while we were out, and dragged me along for each one." 

"In your condition?" Greg exclaimed. "That's not safe, John."

"You're telling me. But they were easy, no guns or weapons. Just a lot of interrogating. He managed to bring down a small money-laundering ring, just from seeing ink smears on the cashier's fingers at a restaurant we went to." 

Greg chuckled. "Bully for him, then. I'll make sure to keep you two off the hardened criminal cases. Do my best to keep you both out of harm's way." 

"Thanks. And you? Kept busy?" 

* * *

 

_Text Message: Sent Thursday, 5 July 2012   6:15 p.m._

> _Can't make it tonight, Sherlock's having a wobbly. Sorry about the short notice. -JW_

_Text Message: Sent Thursday, 5 July 2012   6:21 p.m._

> _Hope everything turns out alright. See you next week. -GL_

* * *

 

**_Thursday, 12 July 2012_ **

"Everything okay at home?" 

"Yeah, it's all fine now. Sherlock was having a minor crisis over the impending arrival of the twins. We, erm, solved the problem to our mutual satisfaction." 

Greg's cheeks pinked at the implication of what sort of things would have brought the two to a 'mutually satisfactory' solution. 

"Good for you, then," he choked out. 

"Yeah," John laughed, and then stopped suddenly, his hand flying to his belly. "Oh."

"Alright?" Greg leaned over and laid a concerned hand on John's shoulder. 

"Yeah. Um, they're moving, is all. Would you -" John trailed off and motioned absently to his stomach. 

"Oh! Er, sure." John took Greg's hand and laid it on his belly, and after a few moments Greg felt a gentle nudge against his palm. "Blimey."

"Yeah," John exhaled. "That's what I thought the first time I felt it, too. It's still, you know, incredible, but I'm feeling it from the inside." 

Greg withdrew his hand as the babies stilled, eyes glued on John's swollen middle. He said nothing. 

"Greg?"

The DI broke out of his silence and looked down at his half-empty pint. "Just thinking."

"Not to get all feely, but what about?"

Greg sighed. "You and Sherlock. I…I miss my wife, John, even though she left me. I want kids so bad," he finished with a swipe to one eye. 

The next thing Greg knew, he was wrapped in a tight embrace. John's full belly pressed against his side and his arms circled Greg's shoulders. A few moments later, his arms lifted to return John's hug, and they were still for several brief seconds before John pulled back. His eyes were wet. So were Greg's.

"I hope you find someone, Greg. You deserve a family." 

"Thanks, John. I'm glad you and Sherlock are happy." 

* * *

_Text Message: Sent Wednesday, 18 July 2012   5:40 p.m._

> _How about dinner with Sherlock and I tomorrow night? -JW_

_Text Message: Sent Wednesday, 18 July 2012   5:42 p.m._

> _Sounds good. I'll bring dessert. -GL_

* * *

 

**_Thursday, 19 July 2012_ **

Greg stood on the front step of 221 Baker Street and balanced his pudding in one hand, pushing the doorbell with the other. After a few moments, the door opened, and John's belly greeted Greg just before John did. "John! Hey, mate," Greg grinned as John waved him inside. 

"Thanks for coming, Greg. Sherlock's just finishing up dinner." John led the way slowly up the stairs, panting softly as he reached the top step. 

"Sherlock's cooking? You've got him full-on domestic, John. Good for you." A slightly offended "hey" came from the direction of the kitchen. Greg winked as John took the dessert so the DI could shrug off and hang up his coat. 

"Oh, a pie. This looks homemade, Greg, did you -" 

"Yeah, it's my mum's special recipe. Made it this afternoon." 

"Smells marvelous. Thanks," John called over his shoulder as he set the dessert down on the counter. "Sherlock's made a roast and potatoes, so I hope you're hungry."

"It smells surprisingly edible, Sherlock," Greg teased, leaning back against the opposite counter as Sherlock shook spices onto the steaming roast.

"Cooking is essentially chemistry," Sherlock returned. "Simple addition of ingredients to reach a desired outcome."

"An experiment in nutrition," John quipped from his seat at the end of the table.

Greg laughed heartily. "Sounds like a blog post to me." 

Sherlock groaned. " _Blog posts._ I will never understand the popularity of that site, John." 

"People want to know," John sighed, with the air of one long-suffering husband going through the motions of a well-used argument.

"Have you posted about the pregnancy?" Greg asked suddenly, and both men turned to look at him simultaneously.

"Oh, dear _God,"_ Sherlock moaned. 

* * *

 

The Blog of John H. Watson

26 July 2012   3:24 p.m.

**A Study in Parenting**

Hi everyone. It's been awhile since my last write-up. Sherlock and I have been keeping things pretty quiet around here lately, and I suppose it's about time to tell you all why.

As of today, I'm 24 weeks pregnant with Sherlock's twins. Things have gone really well so far, the doctor says everything looks good and we're all healthy as can be. 

We're both chuffed to make this announcement, and as much as we appreciate your support, there are other children in our area who need help more than we do. If you are thinking of sending a toy or something our way, please consider sending it to the local children's shelter. Sherlock and I are very well situated and able to provide for our growing family, and we know that orphaned children will appreciate your gifts. 

Sherlock says to add that we're also not taking suggestions for baby names. We're keeping the genders a secret until the twins are born as well. 

Thanks again for your dedication and support of this blog. I'll try and keep things more regularly updated from now on; with everything going on in our lives, keeping up with this blog has slipped my mind! 

Best wishes,

John

* * *

 

**_Thursday, 2 August 2012_ **

"That was a nice post you put up last week," Greg remarked as John heaved himself into the chair. 

"Thanks. Lots of comments," John added. "People seemed genuinely happy for us." 

"As well they should be," Greg beamed. "You know, John, we can pick someplace else to go for these get-togethers," he said, eyeing John's belly. 

"Ah, yes. The 'pub' experience is somewhat dimmed when one can't drink alcohol. And I don't suppose having a heavily pregnant man in the middle of a bar does much for business," John laughed, rubbing his stomach as one of the twins kicked. 

"Can't imagine it does," Greg agreed, chuckling. He pushed John's beading water glass across the waxed countertop and reached for his own beer. "Although I'd be willing to bet the regulars have got a pot going as to when you're going to pop," he said, pointing to a group of men a little older than them who were huddled in a back corner, sneaking glances every few moments to where John sat at the counter. 

"Wouldn't want to disappoint the masses," John laughed. "I've got awhile to go yet, surprisingly enough." 

"Twenty…five weeks?" Greg asked, and John nodded. "Christ."

"I'm huge, I know. We're hoping to make it until thirty-seven, that's 'full-term' as far as twins go." John grunted and rubbed at his back. "I don't know if we'll last that long, though."

* * *

 

**_Thursday, 9 August 2012_ **

"One last visit to the pub before we pick a different venue," John sighed, walking with Greg towards the entrance of the building. "Where'll we go after this?" 

"Dunno," Greg said distractedly, hurrying in front of John to open the door and peek inside. 

"Well, go in, then," John admonished, pushing the DI forward. "It's bloody hot out here, there's air conditioning inside-" John stopped speaking as he walked in the door and was greeted with a round of cheering from the pub-goers. "What's all this, then?"

"We put together a going-away party for you, Johnny boy," the bartender laughed, clapping John on the shoulder. "Figured you've been a right good patron, and we'll be sad to see you go." 

"I'll be coming back eventually," John protested, looking around with a bemused expression. "I'm just having kids." 

"'T'won't be the same," a bloke lamented from the back of the crowd. "Trust me, I've had four." A roar of laughter came from the throng surrounding John. 

John turned to Greg, a smile breaking across his features. "You great arse," he cried, throwing his arms around his friend. 

Greg laughed heartily and returned the embrace."You're welcome." He shook John away, pretending not to notice the tears welling up in the corner of the man's eyes. "Now come on, we've got you a cake in the back." 

* * *

 

**_Thursday, 16 August 2012_ **

"Your couch is far more comfortable than bar stools, I've gotta say," John sighed, leaning back into the cushions as he put his feet up on the coffee table. 

"As big as you're getting, I thought you might be happier in private than you would out in a restaurant someplace." Greg handed John a glass of soda and took his seat next to the doctor on the couch, grabbing the remote as he flopped down. 

"Ta, thanks, Greg. I'm getting a lot of stares when I go out now." 

"I'm not surprised. Probably wondering how you're still walking," Greg laughed. 

"To be honest, I'm kind of wondering that myself. It's been ages since I've been able to get dressed by myself, can't see my feet at all, and I'm wondering how much bigger I could possibly get, but I've got another three months to go yet," John sighed, laying a hand on his swollen stomach. "And they won't stop moving," he added, rubbing gently at some protruding limb. 

"That's got to feel weird," Greg stated, looking in wonderment. "I mean, I can see them through your shirt." 

John quirked an eyebrow. "Can you really? I know I can feel them, but I wasn't sure if you could see it." 

"Oh yeah, mate, it's like…I don't know, like there's things rolling around inside. Well, I mean, there are, but I…fuck." Greg sighed.

John burst out laughing. "No, no, I understand what you mean. It's gotta be weird to look at."

"I don't know how you can function, with those two kicking at you all the time. Isn't it distracting?" Greg asked, turning and hooking one arm over the back of the couch. 

John exhaled slowly, deep in thought. "Yeah, it's distracting, but it reminds me that they're there, you know? Just…every kick reassures me that they're healthy and growing. Now, the kicks at three in the morning that wake me up and send me to the loo? Those I could do without," John chuckled. 

Greg laughed along, and both men sat in silence for awhile, watching the football game. Every once in awhile, John would grunt and wince as a powerful kick or punch hit him in the ribs, but his hand never left his belly the whole time. 

When Greg looked over at John after a long period of no conversation, he saw that John had drifted off to sleep, hands still on his lap and his breathing shallow. "Hey, John," he said softly, shaking the man's shoulder gently. "Hey. Wake up, mate, you probably don't want to kip on my couch." 

"What?" John rubbed at his eyes and sat up slowly. "Oh. Sorry about that, Greg, didn't mean to nod off."

Greg shook his head. "You're fine. You're probably exhausted, anyhow." John smiled wanly and nodded. "Do you want me to call a cab, get you home?"

"Sure. Thanks." John leant back against the sofa again, rubbing at his stomach. 

As Greg dialed for a cab, he looked over at John, stretched out on the couch. The operator picked up on the other end of the line and Greg gave his address. "Cab should be here soon," he called to John. Walking back into the living room, he continued, "Come on, let's get you up and ready to go." John held out his arms and Greg laughed and pulled the man to his feet. 

"Thanks," John said and tugged on his jacket. "Damn these shoes," he grumbled, stuffing his feet partway in and huffing in vague disappointment. "Hey, Greg, I may not be able to do this for much longer. The doctor's considering putting me on bed rest." 

Greg frowned. "Everything okay?" 

"Yeah, nothing's wrong, he's just taking precautions. It's not so much bed rest as it is house confinement; he just doesn't want me going out much." John sighed. "I'm not too chuffed about it, but it's getting hard to get up and going as it is." 

"Sorry to hear that, I really am. If you'd like, I can still come visit you every once in awhile?" 

John looked up, eyes bright. "Really? You'd do that? Thanks, Greg, that'd be wonderful." He grinned. 

"Yeah, sure. Text me when Sherlock gets to be too much and I'll stop by." Greg smiled back and wrapped John in a quick hug before bundling him up and sending him out to meet the waiting cab. 

* * *

 

_Text Message: Sent Thursday, 6 September 2012   8:12 a.m._

> _Hey Greg, it's been awhile. How would you feel about pizza and a movie with Sherlock and I this evening? -JW_

_Text Message: Sent Thursday, 6 September 2012   8:20 a.m._

> _Sounds great. 7 as usual? -GL_

_Text Message: Sent Thursday, 6 September 2012   8:23 a.m._

> _That's fine with us. Bring a few DVDs and we'll decide what to watch when you get here. -JW_

_Text Message: Sent Thursday, 6 September 2012   8:29 a.m._

> _Alright. See you tonight. -GL_

* * *

 

**_Thursday, 6 September 2012_ **

"Hey, Sherlock," Greg said as the detective opened the door. He stepped through into the landing and shrugged off his coat after handing Sherlock the small stack of DVDs. 

"Good evening, Lestrade…I mean, Greg," Sherlock corrected himself. "John's finding stairs a bit of a trick lately, he's waiting upstairs." 

Greg let the air whoosh out of his lungs in one great breath. "I can imagine they'd be more than a little difficult to navigate, with that belly. How's he doing otherwise?" 

Sherlock furrowed his brow. "I get the feeling he's tired of being an incubator, but he and I are both excited for the arrival of the twins." With that, Sherlock led the way up the stairs into the flat. 

"Hey, Greg," John called from the couch as the DI walked in. 

"Hey yourself," Greg returned, grinning and taking the stack of DVDs back from Sherlock. "I brought my Monty Python collection, and the new Marvel movie - the Avengers," he said, handing the small pile to John to sift through. The doorbell rang once more, and Sherlock bounded back down the stairs to answer it. 

"That'll be the pizza, then. Christ, Greg, I don't care what we watch. You can pick." John shrugged. 

"You sure?" Greg asked, and took the DVDs back. "Which does Sherlock hate more: dry humor or superheroes?" 

John chuckled. "Humor, definitely." 

"Then Monty Python it is," Greg laughed. "I'll put it in, yeah?" 

"Sure." There was a pause. "Go on, then, you've got to have something to say." 

"Jesus, John, how much bigger are you going to get?" Greg exhaled, laughing. John joined in, his belly bouncing with each syllable of laughter. 

"30 weeks today, so we're aiming for 7 more. Hope I can get there," John chuckled, patting his stomach. His jumper managed to cover all of the bulge, but it was a close call, Greg thought. 

Just then, Sherlock arrived back in with the pizza, and Greg hustled to help him plate their dinner. "Have you got any room left in there for food?" he joked, handing a plate to John, and the pregnant man chuckled. 

"Plenty. Have to, to feed these girls." He rubbed the jumper-clad mound and grinned. 

"Girls?" Greg asked, and Sherlock gasped. 

"John, we were intending to keep that a secret," he hissed, and John nodded woefully. 

"Sorry, Sherlock. Yeah, Greg, twin girls. Guess I let the cat out of the bag a little early. But you can keep a secret, right?" He smiled hopefully. 

"Sure, John, no worries. Your girls are safe with me." He returned John's grin, grabbed his own plate, and settled in on the couch. 

* * *

 

_Text Message: Sent Thursday, 20 September 2012   11:42 a.m._

> _Hey, I'll send you an invite but Sherlock and I are having the baby shower on the 4th of October. Think you can make it? -JW_

_Text Message: Sent Thursday, 20 September 2012   11:46 a.m._

> _Sure thing, John. I'll clear my schedule. -GL_

* * *

**_Thursday, 4 October 2012_ **

When Mrs Hudson opened the door to 221B Baker Street, Greg was greeted by the cheerful sight of streamers hung far and wide, blue and pink entwined. Balloons floated merrily in the corners, and through the crowd of people, Greg could see the telltale papers, yarn, and pins that meant Sherlock was on a case. He grinned and wove through the few people present to find John. 

There he was, sitting in a new recliner, hand on his stomach and laughing at something that Molly Hooper girl was saying. Sherlock hovered protectively behind him, looking vaguely uncomfortable. He noticed Greg sidling up and waved his fingers in greeting. 

"…stuck up his bum. I don't even want to know the backstory there!" Molly giggled, and John guffawed. He caught sight of Greg, waved, and went to heave himself to his feet. 

"No, John, don't bother. It's not got to be very easy to stand these days, has it?" and John chuckled a good-natured 'no' before pulling Greg in for a sideways hug. 

"Glad you could make it, Greg!" he said, grinning, and Greg couldn't help but smile in return. 

"More than happy to, John," he said, and handed John the neutrally-wrapped gift he'd brought along. "Open that one in private, don't want to spoil the surprise for anyone else." He winked, and Molly inhaled sharply.

"Don't tell me he knows the genders! Oh, Sherlock Holmes, you're wicked, telling him and not the rest of us." She waggled an indignant pointer finger at him, and John laughed and motioned for Greg to join in the conversation. 

* * *

 

_Text Message: Sent Thursday, 4 October 2012   8:11 p.m._

_Greg, the matching silver spoons are lovely. Thank you. -JW_

_Text Message: Sent Thursday, 4 October 2012   8:13 p.m._

_Glad you liked them. Figured no Holmes was complete without being born with a silver spoon in her mouth. -GL_

_Text Message: Sent Thursday, 4 October 2012   8:17 p.m._

_Didn't get a laugh out of Sherlock, but I think you're totally right. -JW_

* * *

 

_Text Message: Sent Thursday, 18 October 2012   2:12 p.m._

_Sherlock and I would like you to swing by sometime soon, if you've got the time. -JW_

_Text Message: Sent Thursday, 18 October 2012   2:38 p.m._

_Something up? I can come by tomorrow. -GL_

_Text Message: Sent Thursday, 18 October 2012   2:42 p.m._

_You'll find out when you get here. Nothing's wrong, we just have a question for you. -JW_

_Text Message: Sent Thursday, 18 October 2012   2:45 p.m._

_Do I need to bring the force as backup, or…? -GL_

_Text Message: Sent Thursday, 18 October 2012   2:49 p.m._

_No, arsehole. Just you is fine. If you behave, there might even be snacks. -JW_

_Text Message: Sent Thursday, 18 October 2012   2:52 p.m._

_Snacks? I'm in. See you tomorrow. -GL_

* * *

 

**_Friday, 19 October 2012_ **

"So, what's up?" Greg asked, settling himself on the edge of the sofa cushion. Sherlock's face was impassive as usual, but John seemed to be holding back a grin. 

"Greg, you and I've been friends for awhile, and you and Sherlock longer," John started, and Sherlock snorted. 

"If you can call our working relationship a 'friendship'," he muttered, and John elbowed him and continued. 

"Anyhow. We're getting last minute things set up, and we both wanted to ask you if you would be the girls' godfather. You've-" John paused as Greg's eyes opened wide and a smile split across his face. John grinned in return and continued. "You've been a great friend this whole time, and it would mean a lot to us if you'd say yes." 

"Absolutely, John, I'd love to. Thank you. It means a lot," Greg said, feeling as though his face could crack from how widely he was smiling. 

"The girls seem to think you'd be a good godfather. They're kicking up a storm. Come here, say hello to your goddaughters." John smiled upwards, and then pulled his shirt up over his massive baby bump. Greg laid a tentative hand on John's stomach, and John moved it until Greg could feel a rolling beneath the skin. 

"Hey, girls," he breathed, grinning as the babies moved under his hand. "I'm Greg, your…godfather. I've known you since you were…well, zygotes, apparently. I look forward to meeting you both." He looked up, and was surprised to see a rare genuine smile on Sherlock's face. John was wiping a tear from his eye, his expression open and happy. 

Greg went home walking on cloud nine. He was a godfather. That was almost as good as being a father, himself. 

* * *

**_Friday, 1 November 2012_ **

"Sherlock? Whuzzgoin on?" Greg peered blearily at his clock, which read 3:48 a.m.

"John's gone into labour. We're at Riverside hospital, should you care to come wait for your goddaughters to be born." There was a pause, and chatter on the other end of the line. "John wants me to tell you he knows I prefer to text, but that this was too important to say in letters." More chattering, sounding a little anxious this time. "I have to go, John's contracting. See you soon, Greg." The line clicked dead, and Greg scrubbed a hand over his face. 

"Just like a Holmes, to come at some ungodly hour." 

Half an hour later, Greg's cab pulled up in front of Riverside, the occupant slightly tired but excited to meet his goddaughters. A kindly (and attractive) nurse directed him to the maternity wing, and he arrived in the empty waiting room. A nurse looked up over the desk and asked who he was here to see, and she smiled as he said the name. 

"Oh, Mr. Watson is in room 212. Are you part of the birth party?" 

Greg blanched. "God, no. Jesus. No, I'm just the godfather. I…I'll wait here." 

The nurse laughed. "Okay, sir. There's coffee in the room to the left, if you need the pick-me-up." 

The Inspector was half-asleep, leafing tiredly through a magazine, when the sound of sharp footsteps knocked him out of his daze. 

"Ah, Greg, you're here. Good. The girls are both born, and both they and John are fine. Would you like to come see them?" Sherlock's suit was disheveled, and he looked haggard, but was positively radiating with excitement. 

"Yeah, of course," Greg said, standing up and grunting as his spine cracked. 

"Just down here," Sherlock said, and strode quickly away. 

The room was somewhat dimly lit, and overwarm, but Greg hardly noticed anything other than the absolutely beaming man in the hospital bed. The bulge in his belly had mostly gone, and was replaced by two pink-capped bundles, one in each arm. John looked up and smiled tiredly when Greg entered the room. 

"Hey, Greg. Sorry to get you up so early. Babies don't come on circadian rhythms," John said, speaking softly. 

"Nah, mate, I understand. May I…?" he asked, gesturing towards the small blanketed beings in John's arms. 

"Of course. Come on over, say hi to your goddaughters." John looked down at each one, and up at Greg when he carefully walked over. 

"Cor, they're small," he murmured, in awe of their tiny facial features and minuscule fingers and fingernails. He ran his finger down one of their cheeks, and John shifted the baby so Greg could see the dark curls that peeked out from beneath her cap. 

"Both have hair like Sherlock." 

"And noses like John. Identical twins," Sherlock interjected from his post on the opposite side of the mattress. 

"And names?" Greg inquired. "Have you named them yet?" 

"Yeah," John replied. "Hannah and Abigail. Hannah and Abigail Watson-Holmes." 

"They're beautiful, John. You two must be so proud." 

"We are," John and Sherlock chorused in near-unison, and John looked up and cast a bright but weary smile at his husband. "We really, really are." 


End file.
